


until one night she caught me right

by Merideath



Series: lay that pistol down [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Darcy Lewis, Canon-Typical Violence, Darcy in the 40s, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:55:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/pseuds/Merideath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve been on tour for three weeks.  Three weeks since Darcy started her assignment to watch over Steven ‘Captain America’ Rogers. Three weeks of singing, dancing, and carefully keeping to the background and letting the bolder girls tease Captain Rogers.  </p><p>It’s not the worst assignment she could have gotten, but it’s hardly what she had hoped for when she’d been given her orders, and handed a file marked ‘Steven Grant Rogers’.  </p><p>prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/798806">lay that pistol down</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	until one night she caught me right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katertots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katertots/gifts).



> This fic is all Katertots' fault. Let me back track to say that I started this within weeks of writing [lay that pistol down](http://archiveofourown.org/works/798806), but my brain decided it was the worst thing ever and I put it away and let it collect dust. A few weeks ago I stumbled across the folder and found that it wasn't as terrible as I remembered it to be, so I dusted it off, and made katertots, aenaria, and dizzy-redhead beta read the hell out of it and here it is. I have a soft spot for this little verse and though have more in my head I don't know if there will ever be more of it, but finishing it off for Darcy/Steve Month has been a really good thing. 
> 
> TW: there is some violence towards an OC at the start of the fic.

They’ve been on tour for three weeks.  Three weeks since Darcy started her assignment to watch over Steven ‘Captain America’ Rogers. Three weeks of singing, dancing, and carefully keeping to the background and letting the bolder girls tease Captain Rogers.  

It’s not the worst assignment she could have gotten, but it’s hardly what she had hoped for when she’d been given her orders, and handed a file marked ‘Steven Grant Rogers’.  

“Let go’a me,” Jeanie shouts down the hall as Darcy is closing the lid of her suitcase. Abandoning her case, Darcy steps down the hall and around the corner behind the darkened stage. One of the burlier stagehands that had been eyeing up the girls while they performed, is holding Jeanie up against a rough wooden post. Jeanie was the youngest of the girls, barely fifteen, with mousy brown hair and the prettiest green eyes Darcy had ever seen.  Jeanie’s eyes were now brimming with tears, a mark on her cheek red against the pale of the girl’s skin.

“Bess,” Jeanie cries out.

“Take your hands off of Jeanie,” Darcy says. She raises her chin up a notch and curls her fingers into fists. Anger burns bright in her belly, a white hot coal burning hotter and hotter.

“Scram,” the stagehand says over his shoulder. He doesn’t even bother to look at her. Darcy doesn’t wait - she’s moving before she can think how bad an idea it might be. She kicks out, leather shoe connecting with the side of his knee. She catches the bastard off guard, and he crumples to to the ground, releasing Jeanie as he falls. Jeanie falls to her knees, tears trailing down her face.  

“You, fuckin’ whore.”

“Oh, Bess, I’m sorry.”

“Go get on the bus, Jeanie,” Darcy orders Jeanie, never taking her eyes off the stagehand. She dances out of his reach, thankful for the first time in a week that she has her dancing shoes on. His face is a mottled shade of red and he swipes clumsily at her but Darcy’s quicker. She has to be. She kicks out at him again, thankful of her sturdy everyday shoes as her foot as she catches him in the mouth, splitting open his lip and jerking his head back. She dances back on the balls of her feet and the stagehand, Edward, lurches to his feet spitting blood and curses the Colonel could learn from.

“What’s going on here?” says a voice behind Darcy. Edward snarls, lunging for her again. Darcy twists, grabbing Edward’s wrist and using his own momentum to send him crashing to the floor. One swift kick to his groin and he isn’t getting up anytime soon.  

It’s a dirty move, and she hopes it's one Agent Carter would approve of. Dirty was the only way Darcy knew how to fight, hard shoes and soft flesh. The stagehand curls on the floor holding his crotch, fat tears rolling down his red face.

“Asshole,” Darcy mutters and smoothes down her skirt. The floorboards creak and Darcy tenses, ready for another fight. She whirls around to meet Captain Steve Rogers’ eyes and grim expression.

Oh, damn.

His eyes flick from Darcy to the man on the ground and Darcy’s stomach sinks down to her toes.

“Excuse me, Captain Rogers,” Darcy says, slipping away as fast as she can. Her heart’s lodged somewhere in her throat as she hears him call after her. She pretends not to hear it as she steps into the girls’ dressing room and closes the door firmly behind her.

“You’ve really done it this time.”

“Bess, there you are. Betta hurry or the bus’ll leave without you,” shouts Alice from the doorway.

“I’m comin’,” Darcy shouts back, shoving her arms into her coat and grabbing her suitcase.

......

Darcy is nearly last to get in line to board the bus, but any hopes of Rogers having gotten on already are dashed when he speaks in a low rumble behind her. "What was that back there?"

"He got handsy. I took care of it," Darcy hisses back. Darcy keeps her face impassive but her fingers clench tight around the handle of her suitcase. Everything is ruined.

“That isn’t the whole story,” Rogers says as he takes her suitcase from her. For a moment she wants the grab it back, rip it out of his hands.

“There isn’t anything left to tell. We didn’t need a prince to fell the ogre,” she says, followed by a clipped ‘thank you’, and climbs onto the bus clutching a battered paperback novel. Towards the back of the bus Jeanie’s curled up with Alice’s arm around her while she cries.  Darcy nods to Alice and finds an empty seat on the tour bus beside a window. Clutching her book to her chest, Darcy sits down, crossing her ankles demurely.

"You think I'm stupid?" Steve asks as he sits down beside her. No luck there then. There is a notebook and a book with a pale blue cover in his hands.    
  
"I hardly know you well enough to say," Darcy says, making a show of opening her paperback and finding a page to read.  
  
"Did Colonel Phillips send you to spy on me, agent? Dames don’t fight that...viciously," Steve says. His eyes flick to the side and the tips of his ears turn pink. “Most...women.”

“Maybe you just haven't known the right women, Captain Rogers. What my brothers didn't teach me the girls at school did. Believe me when I say the girls I've known are far more dangerous that an jerk with roaming hands,” Darcy says. She runs her fingers along the edge of the page and wishes the conversation would end, fearing when the Colonel finds out how badly she screwed up her assignment.

“Girls fight that dirty?”

“Do you have sisters?”

“No.”

“Did you go to a girls school?”

“No,” Steve says, jaw ticking.

“Then you don’t know a damn thing,” Darcy snorts inelegantly. “If you will excuse me, I’d like to read my book now.” She runs her fingers over the page until she finds the passage she last read. She can barely focus on the words, all too aware of the anger boiling off the man beside her. “You can think whatever you like. I’m here to dance and sing, same as you. That’s all.”

“I know you’re lying, Bess,” Steve says softly.

“I’m sorry,” Darcy says closing her eyes and sinking back into the seat.

She is sorry though. Sorry she took the assignment. Sorry she has to report back on everything Captain Rogers does when he has been nothing but a good, honest man. He’s up on stage selling bonds every night despite how futile it seems in the face of men dying. Two nights before he helped Meg write a letter to her family, and drew a cartoon of Alice for her to send to her sweetheart overseas. He’s a good man and it makes  the lies of her cover feel petty and bitter.

They sit in silence for what feels like hours as the bus weaves through the city and out onto the open road. The girls chatter brightly around them as Steve reads from his book and Darcy pretends to read hers. “I’ve made a mess of things,” Darcy murmurs, not sure if she is talking to Steve or herself. “You can call me, Darcy.”

“If you tell me the truth, I’ll call you whatever you want,” Steve says and Darcy looks up at him sharply. Steve’s eyes widen and he looks down at his lap, and out the window. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. That’s something...never mind.”

“Something what?”

“Something Bucky would say to a dame...a beautiful girl...lady.”

“I’m not beautiful?” Darcy says innocently and Steve’s jaw drops open.

“I-I...”

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard, Captain,” Darcy smiles a little and shifts her gaze to the scenery passing outside the window.

“You are beautiful though,” Steve says sincerely. Darcy looks out the window, cheeks burning hotly, butterflies swirling in her belly.  

Minutes pass in silence, Steve’s eyes flicking from his book to her. “Yes I am,” Darcy confesses softly.

“Yes, you’re a spy or yes you're beautiful?”

“I’m not vain enough to call myself beautiful. I'm here to watch over you as an agent of the SSR.  This whole song and dance thing wasn’t my choice,” Darcy whispers closing her book and placing her palm flat over the cover. “But they were my orders. If I didn't dance, well, it doesn't matter now."

...

Two weeks later....

Pinning a curl back into place Darcy flicks her eyes up to the reflection of the door in the mirror as Steve pushes it fully open. “Finished with the press?”

“Yeah, I...yeah,” Steve says running a hand through his hair. “We still goin’ with Alice to get a birthday present for Jeanie?”

“Yes,” Darcy says flatly. It’s a mistake.

Steve cocks his head to the side “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’ll go find Alice while you get changed,” Darcy says smoothing out the skirt of her green cotton dress as she stands.

“Darcy,” Steve says narrowing his eyes at her, jaw twitching slightly.

“It’s nothing. Now get out of the way, Captain, so I can go find Alice,” Darcy says when they are inches apart. He doesn’t follow her order, stands more fully in the doorway, one hand wrapped around the doorknob.  “Move.”

“I’m not moving till you tell me what’s got you so fired up,” he says eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “So tell me.”

“Damn,” Darcy says under her breath and Steve’s mouth ticks up in a smirk of victory. Darcy’s belly twists and she doesn’t think any more. She curls her fingers into the collar of his blue costume, pushes up on her toes and kisses him hard. Steve doesn’t kiss back. She made a terrible mistake.

Oh, God.

She pulls back and Steve breathes her name against her mouth, his arms wrapping around her waist before she can run away. He kisses her then, hard. Darcy gasps, wrapping her arms around his neck. He licks tentatively at the seam of her lips and his tongue slides against hers. She’s dizzy and breathless when they part, the waxy taste of lipstick, and green apple on her tongue.

“You were jealous,” Steve says softly.

“I wasn’t jealous,” Darcy snaps, dropping back down on her heels. Her gaze fixed to the star on his chest.

“Yes, you were.”

“I wasn’t,” Darcy huffs and pushes at Steve’s chest. He doesn’t budge. Darcy wrinkles her nose and stomps her foot in frustration.  

“You were,” Steve says more confidently, grin spreading wide across his face.

“Get that sappy look off your face, idiot,” Darcy mutters under her breath.  Steve hums and leans down to kiss the tip of Darcy’s nose.

“Jealous of some cheesy starlet,” he says. Darcy rolls her eyes and grabs him by the collar, pressing up on her toes to kiss the smirk off his face. She swipes her tongue along the seam of his lips. Steve gasps and opens his mouth, his hands warm on the small of her back through the cotton of her dress.

.....

The Star Spangled Man with a Plan is looking less than, well, spangly and the girls are mutinous after a night spent on the bus, lost on dark country roads far from the highway.  Had it not been for Steve’s sharp senses and quick reflexes  when the driver started listing to the side as they were crossing over a bridge, she’s pretty sure they’d all be at the bottom of the river and not rehearsing a new dance number.  

The dancing isn’t so difficult, at least not for her. Darcy always did love dancing, even if the Colonel disapproved.  Steve on the other hand, despite his reflexes and strength, was awkward. There was some small bit of hope in her chest that they wouldn’t make him dance when they got to California and Captain America would be filmed for the big screen.

He was getting better at the speeches and showmanship though. And the kissing. Darcy’s cheeks flushed hot at the memory of their last stolen moment after the last performance, before climbing on the bus, and their lives nearly getting washed away.  Steve’s hand had cupped her breast through the blue fabric of her costume and she could feel the hard ridge of his erection pressed into her belly. Her lips had been swollen and tingling when she pressed her fingers against them the rest of the night.

Winding her way through the girls on the stage, Darcy drops down to sit beside Steve on the edge of the stage.  There’s an apple half eaten in one hand, and a pencil in the other. His sketchbook lay open across his knee, a few quick sketches of the theater scrawled on the pages.

“Hi,” Steve says his whole face lighting up in a warm smile that Darcy mirrors.

“Come on. I wanna show you something,”  she says tugging on the sleeve of his costume and hopping down from the stage.

“Where?” Steve asks glancing from Darcy down to the half-eaten apple in his hand.

“Hurry up...and finish your apple,” Darcy mutters tapping her toes impatiently and glancing over at the girls sprawled out across the rest of the stage. Steve taps her ankle once before getting to his feet, eating the last bite of his apple core. Darcy wrinkles her nose and Steve huffs rolling his eyes heavenward.

“M’finished. So where exactly are we going?” Steve asks, arching his brows, a soft smile playing about his lips.

“No time for chit chat,” Darcy says turning on her heel and winding her way off stage and through the warren of stage props to reach Steve’s tiny dressing room, with Steve hot on her heels. It’s nothing more than a storage closet with a paper star nailed crookedly to it.

“My dressing room?”

“Mhmm,” Darcy says opening the door wide enough to slip in and grabbing Steve’s hand to pull him in after her. There is no lock on the door, but Darcy leans back against it, looking up at Steve. She can’t quite decipher the look on his face, half worried half amused, and something else incredibly fleeting. “You gonna kiss me?”

“Is there any other option?” he asks, the corner of his mouth hitching up.

“No.”

“Then I best kiss you, ma’am,” Steve smiles down at her curls his hand on her jaw to tilt her chin up to brush his mouth against her. It’s sweet and closed lipped and not like the other day when her toes curled and heat bloomed between her legs.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Darcy pulls her mouth away to whisper against his lips. “Kiss me properly.”

“That an order, Agent?” Steve counters and Darcy feels the blush creeping up her cheeks.

“I-I,” Darcy stutters, closing her eyes, cheeks flaming red.

“So beautiful,” Steve murmurs brushing his thumb over her cheekbone his other hand warm on her waist through the fabric of her costume.

“You don’t have to say--,” Darcy whispers.

Steve cuts her off with a kiss, his tongue slipping between her parted lips. With a gasp Darcy arches into him, one hand grabbing the back of his costume, the other sliding up into his hair. Steve presses her back against the door, hand sliding up and down her side and thigh pushing between her legs, rucking up her red and white skirt. Heat thrums through her body, settling low in her belly, and she rocks against his thigh.

“We should stop,” Steve whispers against her mouth.

“I don’t wanna stop,” Darcy says hitching her leg up to Steve’s hip.

“Darcy,” he groans, shifting his hips forward to pin her against the door, hand sliding down to grasp her knee. She can feel him hard against her hip; it’s not a deterrent in any way, if that’s what Steve meant for it to be. Darcy shivers, heat thrumming through her body, Darcy tugs on his hair, kisses the moles on the side of his neck, Steve’s hips rock against her, and she whimpers as his erection presses firmly between her legs. “the rehearsal,” Steve chokes out.

“What about it?” Darcy asks. Flicking her tongue out, she traces the moles on Steve’s neck; tasting sweat, soap, and the waxy residue of her lipstick. “Kissing you is much more fun than dancing.”

“Yeah, but this is--”

“Fun,” Darcy grins and Steve’s hand twitches on her leg, fingertips pressing into her skin through her nylons. “I don’t want to stop yet.” Darcy kisses the hinge of his jaw and reaches down to cover Steve’s hand and slide it up her leg. It’s the boldest thing she has ever done. Judging by the curse slipping from Steve’s parted lips and the way his hand inches farther up, it’s the right decision.

"Darce, you sure?" Steve whispers in her ear. His thumb brushes back and forth over the top of her thigh, near the edge of where the nylon is stitched into her panties. Shivers run down her spine, under her skin at his touch. ."We could get caught."  
  
"Yes, I'm sure and we aren't gonna get caught with you pushing me against the door," she whispers back. Darcy licks his earlobe, catches it between her teeth.

“Christ, Darcy,” Steve groans.

“Kiss me again,” she says, letting her eyes fall shut and licking her bottom lip, tasting lipstick, salt and apples.

“Have you done this before?”

“No....have you?”

“Once...before....I...,” Steve says voice trailing off as color creeps into his cheeks. “It wasn’t like being with you.”

“Good, then you know what to do,” Darcy nods, “Kiss me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Stop saying that, Captain Rogers,” Darcy retorts hotly. Steve grins down at her, kisses the tip of her nose.

“Any other orders, Agent Lewis?” Steve grins crookedly down at her.

“Better, now kiss me again,” Darcy nods. Steve kisses her until she’s dizzy with it, toes curling, heat swirling low in her belly. His left hand slips from her hair to press flat against the door beside her ear, right hand moving to cup her sex though the two layers of panties she is wearing. “Oh,” she gasps, tensing at the touch.

“You sure about this?” Steve asks pulling back enough to look into her eyes. Swallowing hard, she nods, taking a deep breath that does nothing for her hot cheeks and racing heart. “Okay?” Steve asks again moving his hand to pull away with a worried frown. Darcy grabs his wrist and his fingertips rub against her, and oh that doesn’t feel anything at all like her own touch.

“M-more’n okay,” Darcy whispers back, her voice sounding foreign and breathy to her own ears. Steve’s gaze is intense, line of worry between his brows. “I don’t want to stop yet.” Darcy drops her gaze down to where their hands disappear under the fabric of her skirt. Steve rubs his fingers in a slow circle, and Darcy gasps, dropping her head back against the door. She holds on tightly to his wrist, and the back of his costume, letting the pleasure build as his fingers rub against her.

Steve kisses her temple, whispers how beautiful she is, all the time his fingers circle against her clit as he watches how her body responds to his lightest touch. The pressure builds higher, hips rocking against his hand, nails digging into his wrist, his name a whispered moan falling from her lips.

“That’s it,” Steve whispers in her ear. “Darcy.” He trails kisses down her cheek, licks into her mouth. Her body goes taut, pleasure floods through her. Steve coaxes her though her orgasm, nimble fingers rubbing until it’s too much. Darcy pulls his hand away sagging between Steve’s warmth and the door. “Darce?”

“Mhmm?” Darcy says blinking her eyes open to see Steve smiling down at her. He looks so damn pleased with himself, eyes dark but for a slim ring of blue, and face flushed as red as hers feels. She can’t say he didn’t earn that smug, prideful look.

“You --,” Steve begins but Darcy cuts off his words with a kiss, pressing her tongue past his lips to tangle their tongues together. Steve slips his arm behind her back, pulling her flush to his chest, the edge of his belt buckle and hard length of his erection pressing into her belly through layers of costume and girdle. She thinks about asking to touch him, worming her hand into his costume tights, and touching him the same way he touched her.  

A thrill shoots down her spine and Darcy leans back a little, slipping her hand between their bodies to brush the bulge in his shorts. His cock, she thinks. Her toes curl at the weight of the word in her mind, and the feel of him underneath her fingertips.  “Darcy,” Steve gasps, pulling back a few inches to look down at her hand over him. She can see better with the space between them and traces her fingertips up and down the length of him. She feels like giggling and bites down on her inner cheek to keep the laughter in.

"Darcy, I can't... you gotta stop, you're gonna make me mess m'tights," Steve says covering her hand with his. His cheeks are flushed pink, and his eyes so dark barely a drop of blue rims his pupils.  
  
"And that would be bad?" Darcy asks, curling her fingers along his cock through the fabric of his shorts.  
  
"Yes...no. I don’t know," Steve mutters, pulling her hand away entirely.   
  
"Take 'em off," Darcy says in challenge.

Steve sucks in a sharp breath. "Darcy, you can't say that."  
  
"Of course I can. You made me feel good, I want to make you feel good too," she says, more neutrally than she feels. Wondering if he can hear how fast her heart in beating in her chest. “Can I make you feel good? Can I touch you...can I touch your...your cock?”  Darcy says boldly, without giggling, and Steve’s face flushes red as the stripes on their costumes.

“You shouldn’t say that,” Steve chokes out.

“I rather like the word. Co--,” Darcy says and Steve covers her mouth with his, in a hard kiss. Darcy pulls her hand free of his and drops her hands to his belt tugging at it. Steve doesn’t stop her, just pulls back from the kiss to watch her hands on his belt. The belt refuses to budge. “Help me.”

“Yeah,” Steve rasps pushing her hands away gently, “You sure you wanna?”

“Yeah, m’sure,” Darcy nods watching Steve slip the belt free of the buckle and  hook his thumbs into the top of his shorts.

“You sure about this, agent?” Steve asks.

“Do it already,” Darcy says, brimming with impatience. Steve bites his lips and shoves  his shorts down enough for his cock to spring free.

“Oh,” Darcy gasps, cheeks burning her hands hovering between their waists. It’s big, bigger than the diagrams in the medical book in her father’s library. The head is flushed as red as Steve’s cheeks, a bead of clear fluid at the tip, the base nestled in coarse  dark  hair disappearing beneath the line of his shorts.

“Steve,” she whispers reaching out to touch the drop of liquid glistening on the tip. Steve sucks in a breath, catches her hand, and places it gently along the shaft.  

Darcy promptly forgets to breathe for several long seconds. Every bit of her mind focuses on the heavy weight of him in her hand. Hot and solid and most definitely not a medical book diagram, or the picture Lucy Treadwell snuck in the lining of a suitcase and passed around among the girls. She runs her fingertips along the length of him, darting her eyes up to Steve’s face.  “How…” she says, voice trailing off when Steve curls his hand over hers. He guides her hand along his length and from base to tip. The foreskin slides over the tip and back again. Darcy’s breath catches and she tightens her fingers. Steve’s hips jerk forward, pushing his cock into the circle of her hand.

“Christ, Darce,” Steve mutters low. He leans forward and drops his head to rest on her shoulder, sucks in a ragged breath and guides her hand up and down. Steve trembles against her and she reaches up to cup the back of his neck with her free hand, feathering her fingers through his hair. Heat swirls low in her belly, and she feels a little drugged from the heat of him in her hand, the illicit thrill of touching each other so intimately.  She wants to ask him to move so she can see., see the glistening head of his cock, and their hands twined together.

“ M’not...” Steve whispers into neck. Hot mouth sending shivers of arousal down her spine.

“Can I--”

“Hey, Rogers, you in there? Back on stage in five,” shouts a shrill voice through the door. Annabell, Darcy thinks, biting her lip to keep quiet, their joined hands stilling on Steve’s cock.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Steve says, voice close to a growl.  He slaps his hand against the door to keep it closed.

“You seen Bess?”  Annabell shouts, and they both tense.  Darcy’s eyes widen, face burning hotly. She jerks her head up to look at Steve’s face. Her fingers tighten on Steve’s cock and he hisses out a breath, and mouths the word ‘don’t’.

“No,” Steve says flatly. The nails of his hand scrape against the door. Darcy’s shoulders shake and she tilts her head forward to press her face into his shoulder. “I’ll be there in a minute, Annabell.”

They listen to Annabell’s  retreating footsteps and Darcy sags against Steve in relief.

“That was...close,” Darcy says darting her gaze up to meet Steve’s.

His mouth twists sourly. “You should go.” Before they catch us, goes unsaid.

“Not till you...you know,” Darcy says. She drags her teeth over her bottom lip and slides her hand along Steve’s cock.

“Darcy, you shouldn’t...goddamn,” Steve mutters, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He guides her hand a little faster now. “I need to....” Steve stops their hands and pulls her fingers away altogether, replacing it with his own.

“Oh,” Darcy exclaims, lightly covering the back of Steve’s hand with hers as he roughly strokes himself. She’s wonders if she’ll go to hell for liking it so much. She presses her thighs together and tilts his hips to the side away from her. Steve pulls her into a kiss, hard and messy, he groans low into her mouth and stills as he comes, a splash of warmth on her fingers. “That was wonderful.”

“Darcy,” Steve says, meeting her eyes. His face is red to the roots of his hair, as hot as her own face feels.  She kisses the corner of his mouth and lifts her hand to examine the drop of him on her fingertips. Steve mutters something under his breath and grabs a handkerchief to wipe her fingers clean.

“I liked that,” Darcy says  softly. Her face still burns as she watches Steve clean himself up and tuck himself back into his blue shorts.  Darcy rolls her lip between her teeth and drops her gaze to the cracked mirror hung up on the wall. Her hair’s a mess, one victory roll drooping over her forehead, red lipstick smeared across her mouth and chin, cheeks redder than any pinch would do. The beating of her heart was slowing down. Darcy felt wicked, and fallen, and oh so alive. She wanted more.

“I...yeah me too,” Steve says dropping the handkerchief to the floor and pulling her into him. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers the words against her lips. He kisses her soft and sweet, gentle and innocent, as if his hands hadn’t made her see stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Pistol Packin' Mama' by the Andrews Sisters


End file.
